Ongaku no Kanjo
by KamariaAelfgar09
Summary: All credit goes to Matsuri Hino. Senri Shiki finds it difficult to express any of his inner emotions. The only way he knows how is through the beautiful melodies he creates on the piano. Until he's interrupted. Review please.


**First Vampire Knight fanfiction. Senri and Rima. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: _Matsuri Hino _owns the characters and the series.**

Ongaku no Kanjo (Muscial Emotions)

Long pale fingers danced gracefully over white and black keys as a complex mix of notes tangled together to create the masterpiece flowing from the instrument. White cuffed sleeves brushed the polished surface of the deep mahogany wood. The silver rose buttons made a soft clank every once in a while.

He was alone, the music being his only companion.

The large empty room was dim, natural light obscured by heavy blue curtains hanging from large French windows. A couple oil lamps cast shadows and rays of flickering light along the cream coloured walls and black marble floors. The orange strokes of light dancing gracefully along the dark surface. A sofa or glass table was set here or there. The occasional vase of red roses sat atop clear antique tables with gleaming glass surfaces. A tall stone fireplace rested against the wall across the room. Its gentle flames were throwing flickering streams of orange light across the shining floors and fading rugs. The dances of flames intertwining with each other. A framed painting sat next to the fire, the artwork blending into a detailed scene of an autumn cast forest with bright flashy colours of yellow, red, orange and brown.

These colours didn't interest him. The scarlet cushions resting upon the furniture did not catch his eye; nor did the bright points of light breaking through one of the drapes blocking the sunlight.

Such things did not please him, nor did such things bring a smile to his face.

The burgundy tinged locks of hair upon his head fell lifelessly into his eyes, the strands nothing like the fiery mess atop Akatsuki Kain's head. The two dull eyes on either side of a long nose even seemed bored. They were the palest of blues, possibly categorized as grey. The complete opposite of the ocean gaze of Hanabusa Aido's turquoise eyes. His sharp sculpted face held no expression but that of utter indifference and boredom. His clipped dull voice carried no enthusiasm, unlike the loud happy voice of Takuma Ichijo. No self-absorbed attitude, like that of the petty Ruka Souen. He was void of any emotion so it seemed.

His emotion was through his _music_.

A twisted combination of a soft high notes with the deep low notes created the web of an interlaced melody. While throughout the piece he added in small sparks of a note balanced between. This was his _expression_, how he let his bottled up feelings flow.

Through his music, he came _alive_.

The song would become him; he would merge with the rhythm, the beat, the very core of his heart. His fingers would glide across the keys until the instrument became a part of him. Until he truly felt as though the melody finally fit his hidden emotion to near perfection.

He yearned for _perfection_.

The music was who he was. A meaningful braid of his deepest feelings coming alive through the press of a simple piano key. His _masterpiece of emotion_.

Time was lost as his ears were filled with sound and his soul and body was consumed by the conflicted notes merging into various tones and pitches. All blending into the melody he called his own. His concentration was at its all time high, focused on letting the closed off part of himself be released into the notes. Everything around him ceased to exist while he played. The sweeping motion of his hands across the instrument holding his full attention.

That was until something came soaring through the air and pelted him in the back of his dusty red hair.

The music ended abruptly. A pair of hands halting their movements above the black and white keys. He swung one of his white trouser covered legs over the other side of the piano seat so he could turn easily. One of his arms slipped off of the instrument. The rose buttons lining the cuff of his uniform jacket clanked against the wooden seat. Two emotionless greyish-blue eyes scanned the room until they met the gaze of the culprit.

She was staring back at him with the same level of expression as he did.

Her straight corn coloured hair hung in high pigtails, tied with black ribbon. Two large doe-like cerulean blue eyes were covered slightly by her messy fringe. One slender blondish-orange eyebrow was raised slightly over her brow bone. The sleeve of her purple sweater covered the dainty hand that rested on her tilted hip. The edge of her black pleated skirt rose up slightly, uncovering the diamond pattern tights encasing her long legs. One light blue slipper rested up on the curved foot of one of the glass tables.

She looked bored and maybe a little too innocent.

One maroon eyebrow raised in question over blank but ultimately annoyed eyes. One emotion he didn't try to hide. Annoyance was _easy_, like amusement and indifference. He could easily let those emotions slip by and not have to worry about anyone noticing too much.

With one bothered sigh, he picked up the crushed up remains of the pocky stick amo that was aimed towards his head.

"You wasted a perfect piece of pocky there," he mumbled, no feeling in his dead hanging voice. The sound barely shattered the silence, the words were so quiet.

She shrugged, not caring. "More where that came from."

"What did you accomplish through your pocky missal?" It didn't make much sense to him.

"I got your attention."

He laughed humourlessly. "There's other ways to grab my attention you know."

She shrugged and tilted her head before answering, "You're always so absorbed when you're playing."

His long ghostly white fingers ran lightly over the keys, a soft brushing sound was the only thing heard. Until he sighed softly and gave her an answer. "It's the only way I know how to express my feelings."

"I know, it was_ beautiful_," was her quiet reply. She slowly drifted over to the piano, her slipper covered feet dragging across the floor gracefully.

He watched her glide across the marble floor, his eyes portraying the smallest hints of awe. Large watered down blue eyes trained on deep royal blue orbs.

"Thank you," he murmured once she slid onto the piano seat next to him.

She let a small barely there smile grace her lips before she leaned in to press her soft lips to his smooth sculpted cheek.

No words needed. Besides the piano, she was the only other thing he would ever express emotions to. The only one he _trusted_.


End file.
